Ben's Bar and Bed
by ThuhJesheekuh
Summary: Sound and the Fury It was an assignment for my A.P. Lit class. Faithful to Faulkner's style, it's told from Quentin's point of view. He wanders Boston in his usual depression and stumbles upon this bar...


So I had to read The Sound and the Fury this summer for my A.P. Lit class. I hate that book with a passion. It's crap. However, we had to read it, and as our final project for the unit, we had to write an extra "chapter" (limit was 3-6 pages, this one's 5) from one of the characters' points of view. I did a project similar to this in tenth grade with To Kill a Mockingbird. It's also up here somewhere (titled "You're Welcome").For this project, well, this is what I wrote.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I want to own, The Sound and the Fury. It's a crappy book, the rights to which belong to William Faulkner (who sucks) or whoever he left it to in his will.

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Ben's Bar and Bed

The plate glass window was painted in green and gold letters. Ben's Bar and Bed. I considered the irony. Whoever the owner was obviously had better people skills than Benjy. The two-story establishment had dark red bricks, but the window was light from the bar inside.

I moved to the glass and stood on the outside looking in. There was the bar to the left going back. In the rear was a piano next to a low stage. A man at piano played as the girl on stage crooned along with him. She _sang a lullaby to him._

"_Hush, Benjy, hush," she whispered over and over. He never was able to sleep well. Sometimes if she was quiet enough, she could chant the lullaby Mother used once before she was sick all the time. Jason didn't like it when he heard it. If he was awake when she tried it he'd probably tattle on her. Jason was asleep though, and Benjy was crying for Caddy, so she rolled over and talked nice to him for a minute before she started singing the lullaby._

"_Hush, hush," Caddy sighed._

_She yawned softly and fell asleep herself. Realizing he was alone, Benjy started whimpering and sobbing, and Jason woke up and called Dilsey, and she came and yelled at us for causing such a racket this late at night._

_I said, "I was sleeping."_

_Dilsey said, "Y'all hush up and get to sleep fo' I whip you all."_

_I crawled under the covers and heard Caddy whispering _I was cold. The sky no longer was misting but raining pins and needles of ice on the back of my neck. I pressed my hands to the window. The glass was warmer than the air but still cold to the touch. I watched the girl on stage from my position there outside. I shivered and muttered, "Damn."

The proprietor tapped once on the glass front window and beckoned with his hand. When I didn't immediately respond, he stepped out from behind the bar and moved to the front door. I heard the brass bell tinkle, and he said, "You comin in or what, Mac?" I watched the girl still. "Look, Mac, it's freezin out here. You can watch her inside too."

He held me by the crook of the arm and led me inside where it was indeed warm. "Jesus, Mac. Not even a coat on ya? You some kinda lunatic? Come over here, we'll get you warmed up." He returned to his station behind the bar and took down a glass. I sat down on the wooden stool opposite him. "What'll it be?"

"Gin," I ordered, turning in the seat to watch the girl on the stage. He nodded, pouring the liquor into the glass. The bar was musty, cigar smoke hung in the air. It cast a faint haze throughout the room. The light on her cut through the smoke and formed a wreath around her head. Or a noose. If you'd pulled the light away the wreath might have followed and strangled her.

"Like a nightingale, huh?" he asked, putting the cup in my hand.

"Beautiful," I agreed.

"Hmm, not much for business though." We looked around the nearly empty bar. There were just a few drunks too spiffed to see straight up near the stage she was singing on.

"Slow night?" I asked, lifting the glass and drinking.

"I told ya, she sounds nice, but she does nothin for business," he shrugged, wiping glasses with a clean towel. "Couldn't turn her down though. Sweet kid. Husband and her come peddlin her act at my door, says they needs the money, I figure, What the hell. I can stand a slow night now and then."

"That's generosity," I said, raising my glass to him briefly.

"Problem is she's married. Wants to keep it faithful to her husband," the proprietor divulged. "I had dames like her in here before. Drunks want hem to do the bawdy stuff. That's where I start losin business. Girl won't do it in front of her husband." He saw my glass was empty and refilled it.

"Good girls," I nodded, swallowing.

"The best, but chances are they won't make it very far down the road they're takin," he said. He leaned up against the counter. "So, you gonna head upstairs." I shrugged. "Right then." He stepped out from behind the counter and disappeared through a door halfway down the wall.

I returned my attention once more to the singing woman. There was a man standing against the wall watching her. I hadn't noticed him before because he was half-hidden in shadows. Judging from his sober state, I assume he was her husband. He had an unreadable expression on his face. Was it pride, pride for his wife? Haughtiness? Did he think he was better than the drunks because his wife was so wonderful? Or was it smugness. Yes, I think it was smugness. His wife went around putting on her act while he got to reap the benefits as her manager.

Maybe, maybe not. But two minutes later one of the inebriated oafs sitting in front of the stage made a grab for the girl's ankle. She kicked him away, but he kept making the grab. The girl stopped singing, the pianist stopped playing, and the husband leapt at the drunk and blackened his eye. The girl screamed, and the bartender came back into the room. "Jesus, not again!" he grunted before heading in to remove the rabble-rouser from his establishment. The few others still there were hooting and hollering and carrying on something fierce. There was tussling and punching, and finally the bartender managed to boot the drunk out the door into the street.

I could hear him cursing out in the rain when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. "Hi, there," the woman greeted.

"Evening."

"I hear you're a little lonely tonight."

"Could be."

"I've got a lonely room upstairs. Wanna come keep me company?"

"I'm not drunk enough."

She reached behind the bar and mixed some gin and rye. I gulped it down and followed her. I was drunk. I could barely see straight. I've never been very good at holding my liquor. I don't think I really knew what I was doing as she led me down the darkened hallway.

The bedroom was dark, and quiet when the door closed. All I could hear _I'm going to Harvard._

_I know._

_But I won't do it if I'm still needed here._

_Okay._

_That's a promise._

_Go to Harvard._

_Are you sure?_

_Go. There's nothing here._

_I'm going._

I was lying on the mattress. The woman was ready to come, but I threw her off. She yelled, What's the matter with you, and came at me again. I shoved her into the wall. She groaned and fell to the floor. I grabbed my shirt and ran back downstairs and out into the rain again.

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So, that was it. Kind of anti-climactic at the end. I wanted to go into more detail, but you gotta keep in mind that I had to turn it in to my teacher. We worked in pairs on this. My partner. Brittany, helped to create the outline and the concept. But then she got a stomach virus, and her number's not in the phone book. So I had to write it all by myself at 5AM the day it was due. I think it came out pretty good. Plus she's gonna buy food for me on Thursday and Friday when the play is. Okay, that's all. Hope you enjoyed it. R&R and KIT&KIR. 


End file.
